when you're young, you just run
by kathillards
Summary: Seeing Jason shirtless isn't a new occurrence. What is new are the scars. At least, the ones she hasn't seen before. —- JasonKim


**notes:** probably about time i wrote a fic for the original red/pink power couple that started pretty much everything i love. this is set right before, during, and after the turbo movie.

does feature semi-nudity and implied sex, so watch out. as always, nothing graphic.

may or may not turn this into a series on ranger scars? we'll see. hope you enjoy!

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 **when you're young, you just run**

 _when you're young, you just run  
_ _but you come back to what you need_

— taylor swift, this love

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Seeing Jason shirtless isn't a new occurrence. She's known him for years, too long to even remember; she's pretty sure they took baths together when they were kids. Just because it's been a few years since she had to bandage him up after a battle doesn't mean this is _new_.

What _is_ new are the scars. At least, the ones she hasn't seen before.

"Kim," he says, half a smile tipping the corner of his lips, "you're staring."

She glances up from his chest, almost blushing, before she reminds herself that, as impressive as his six-pack is, that wasn't what she'd been staring at. He adjusts the towel around his waist almost self-consciously – which is also new, she doesn't know when that happened; he's never been anything but open around her – and reaches for his clothes.

"Where did you get that?" she asks, stopping him with a hand on his wrist so he turns to face her again. The Florida sunlight streaming in through her window shines against his bare skin, but it doesn't do anything to cover up the jagged, fading scar crisscrossing his stomach. She doesn't touch it, but the sight of it itches at her, like a memory she should have, but doesn't.

Because she wasn't _there_.

"Just a fight, Kim," he says carefully, twisting his wrist out of her grasp, but he doesn't walk away. "Nothing to worry about. It's already healing over, see?"

She frowns, her fingers twitching. Jason sighs, takes her hand, and places her fingers over the scar. His skin is still damp, and rough over that patch, not as smooth as the rest of him, but he's right, it _is_ healing over. It's still a little pink, standing out against his usual warm gold, but it's fading.

She doesn't know why it bothers her so much. It's not even very long, though there are multiple lines, and she traces them all carefully, waiting for him to react. He stays still, probably because he knows she would freak out if it seemed like it was still hurting him, but she can feel his chest rising and falling, his breaths coming a bit harder than before.

A voice in her head points that that could be less about pain and more about _her_. She ignores that voice.

" _Kim_ ," he murmurs, making her look up into his face. He's smiling down at her, fondly exasperated. She's seen that expression a million times before, but it doesn't take away the way his scar makes her feel. "I'm fine, I promise. Stop worrying so much."

"I can't help it," she sighs, pulling her hand away. Almost instantly, his breath comes out between his teeth and she jumps. "Does it still – "

"No," Jason says quickly, moving away from her. "No, it doesn't. You're paranoid, that's all. Been away from the action too long." The way he says it makes the words sound half-wistful and half-bitter; she doesn't know if it's because she hasn't had to go back to action or because he never wanted to leave in the first place.

"I leave you for a year and you go back and get yourself beat up by some robots," she chides, managing to find a laugh somewhere as he grabs his clothes from the dresser and heads to the bathroom. He leaves the door slightly open so they can talk – he always does, but this time, she finds herself staring after him.

"Maybe you should have come with me," he suggests with a grin. The idea hits her in the gut – she hates how _nice_ it sounds, to have gone back with him, to fight at his side again, to know he's there at her back, protecting her like he always has.

Florida has been lonely without her friends. This is the first time he's visited her at all.

"Maybe I should have," she agrees lightly, as if they're joking, watching him buckle up his jeans. He still hasn't put on his shirt – she can still see the scar, even from the distance. "Are you gonna tell me who gave that to you?"

"Just a monster," he says, and she thinks he maybe puts his shirt on a little faster than normal. "It's not the first time, Kim. Probably won't be the last, knowing my luck."

"No kidding," she agrees, offering him a smile when he comes out of the bathroom shaking his wet hair, but the idea of him getting hurt without her – she'd known that it was possible, that it was _happening_ , but to have the evidence in front of her is sobering in an entirely new way. "Who fixed you up?"

This gives him pause, for some reason. Her stomach churns uncomfortably as he eyes her, like he's worried he might say something to set her off. Like he doesn't want her to know the answer. Which is ridiculous – she knows the Zeo team, except Tanya, but still, it's not like she doesn't care about them. Not like she doesn't trust them with his life.

He says, "Kat," and the reason suddenly makes sense.

Her stomach churns again, this time differently. This time like maybe she'd wanted a different answer. Even though – and she knows it doesn't make sense because – because Kat is her _friend_ , and more than that, Kat is a healer. Trini had always been their healer, always ready with first-aid knowledge to fix them all up after a battle. Of course the Zeo team has their own. Of course it's Kat.

Of course she fixed Jason up. She was his teammate. _Is_ his teammate, even though he's left Angel Grove. Will always be his teammate. It was ridiculous to expect that he would go to Trini, who was still halfway across the world studying international relations under world peace ambassadors. Of course it was Kat.

 _She_ hadn't been there.

"Oh," she finally remembers to say. "Good. That's – that's good. I'm glad – she was there."

Jason looks at her over his shoulder as he puts on his watch, but doesn't say anything. She leans against the edge of her bed and thinks about the scar on his chest that she'd never seen before and all the wounds she hadn't been there to help bandage and all the times he'd almost died in Angel Grove when she'd been here in Florida training for games that seem so unimportant if the world had been taken over by machines –

And she says, "How about a trip back?"

-:-

After – after everything, Maligore, Turbo, going evil, trying to kill everyone – she comes by his hotel room, partly because she needs the company and partly because she wants the company to be _him_. She's changed her clothes, debated burning the ones she wore when she was sacrificed to Maligore, and brushed her hair at least three times before she works up the courage to actually knock.

He opens the door, not even looking surprised to see her. He's only wearing sweatpants, which she recognizes as his relaxing outfit – the TV isn't on, though, which means he was practicing karate, instead.

"Back to work already?" she asks, breezing in and perching herself on the edge of his bed. Jason smiles and closes the door behind her. It's an innocent gesture, but suddenly the room feels charged, like they've been locked in, even though they haven't. She runs her tongue over her lips, trying not to look at his chest, at the scar that's already practically gone on his stomach, at anything, really.

She stares at the ceiling. He seems to notice, because he says, "Are you feeling okay?" even as he drops into a kata.

"Me?" she says, wanting to laugh. "I'm feeling great. We just tried to kill all our friends. What could be better?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, but she catches the amused glint of his eyes. "No need to make light of it. I was right there with you."

The words settle inside her, warm and comforting. He was right there with her. It's been so long since she had him at her side, she'd almost forgotten how it felt. How it feels, to know he's there, protecting her, fighting besides her, being there.

He turns into another position, and she notices the bruise, dark purple and low on his back.

"Jason," she says, moving before she can stop her feet, and he jumps when he feels her touch the spot. " _Jason_ ," this time softer, more insistent. He doesn't turn around, so she runs her fingers over the bruise, and a shiver runs down his spine.

"Stop worrying," he says, because he knows her, and he knows she is, but she can't _help it_. She'd _been there_ for this one, she knows because it's brand new and recent, and he _still_ hadn't told her. "It's just a bruise. It'll fade."

"Who gave it to you?" she asks, trying not to let her voice waver. Why hadn't he shown her? He used to show her everything, her and Trini and Zack and Billy, but _especially_ her. He knew she worried every time he coughed because of a broken rib or held a pencil weird because of a sprained wrist. He always told her so she could make sure he was getting better, could track the progress as the scars faded and the bones readjusted.

But he didn't tell her this time. He hadn't told her about any of them in a long time.

"Adam," he admits. "And he already apologized for it, so _stop worrying_."

She doesn't really care that it was Adam, or that he apologized. What matters is that it happened, and it happened without her knowing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A laugh escapes him, disbelieving and quiet. "Why didn't I tell you? Kim, it's _just a bruise_. It's not a big deal. It barely even hurts. Kat already looked at it – "

"Kat?" she repeats, and he goes quiet like he's realizing he shouldn't have said that. She hates that feeling. She hates _this_ feeling, like maybe she wishes he hadn't said that. Because there's no good reason for that, she _knows_ it. Tanya looked at her own wounds. It wasn't a big deal.

He turns to face her and she drops her hand, and maybe it is a big deal. He looks at her like he's trying to figure her out, and she can't recall him ever once looking at _her_ like that. Not her, she had been his best friend since preschool. He never had to figure her out.

"Is this going to be a problem?" he asks her, and he's using his leader voice. He hasn't used that on her in a long time. "You and Kat – "

She steps back, bumping against the edge of the bed. "Kat and I are fine," she says, quickly, almost too quickly. "She's my friend. That's not the problem here – "

His face softens. "She's dating your ex-boyfriend, I wouldn't blame you if – "

"This isn't about Tommy!" she bursts out, startled by the vehemence in her own voice. He blinks at her, and she calms herself down before saying, "It's _not_. I'm happy for them. This is about _you_."

"What _about_ me?" he asks, his voice frustrated. "I haven't done _anything_ – "

"You told Kat!" she says, and his jaw works like he's going to say something, something she doesn't want to hear, so she talks over him quickly, "And it's not about _Kat_. It's about – it's that you showed someone else and not _me_. I was _there_ this time."

" _Kim_ ," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's only because she was there in the medical wing with me. Hell, Adam was there, too. And Tommy and Tanya were there for your checking. Why are you so _upset_? It's not like you show me every scar on _your_ body."

She grinds her teeth. "Oh, yeah?" and a part of her knows she's being ridiculous, but it doesn't manage to stop her in time because she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it up and over, discarding it on his bed. A surge of satisfaction rushes through her when she sees him gulp, unable to look away from her.

He's seen her in less than a bra and shorts, she knows – he's seen her in bikinis and he's even seen her in her underwear a few times, but this – this is different. She knows it. He knows it.

There are no scars on her body he hasn't already seen, and he knows that, too.

His gaze runs over the expanse of bare skin she's put on display for him, intense enough to make heat bubble inside her, and she can see him cataloguing the marks. A scar above her right hip, one at her naval, and two marks in the middle of her chest, right below her sternum. All monsters he'd fought with her, or ones she'd told him about when she'd visited him in Switzerland a year ago.

"Kim," he says, looking down. She closes her eyes, angry with herself – and with him, but mostly herself, for feeling this way, for getting upset over the stupidest of things – but then he touches her face and she looks up. He's suddenly very close.

"I'm sorry," he says, his gaze holding hers, keeping her still as he slides his other hand over the soft skin of her waist, splaying his fingers across her stomach, his thumb brushing over the old, faded pink scar there. Everywhere he touches leaves goosebumps on her skin. "I'm sorry if you thought – that I didn't care enough to tell you anymore. Or that I was replacing you with Kat. It was never about that."

His hand on her face shifts to cup her cheeks, and she swallows at the way his touch makes her feel. "Then what was it about?" she asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Jason smiles ruefully. "It was about me," he tells her. "It was about me – leaving you… and then coming back, and you weren't there. About me not knowing if – how you felt about it. If you wanted to leave it all behind, never talk about it again. And you didn't, in our phone calls and our letters. You didn't talk about fighting at all."

"I was trying to move on," she admits. "Like you all did." Like you did _first_ , she wants to add, but she thinks he knows that already.

"I didn't know if you still cared," he says, and she swallows at the idea that he might have thought, for even one moment, that she didn't care about him. "And Kat did. And the rest of them – they're not _my_ team, Kim, but they were there. They're not you, but I had to let them be. I had to learn to let them care about me instead of you."

She breaks their gaze, looking away for a moment to collect her thoughts. It's hard with his hands still on her body, still on her face, hyper-aware of his every breath, knowing that barely anything separates their chests. "Jason?" she finally asks, tilting her head as she glances back up at him.

"Yeah?" he says, his thumb swiping sideways on her bare stomach, sending another flurry of butterflies rushing through her. She wonders if he knows the effect he has on her; it's so hard to tell, but she thinks he must.

"Are you going to kiss me now?"

He stares at her for a moment, long enough to make her shift uncomfortably, and then he smiles, warm and genuine, and leans down. His lips meet hers and it almost doesn't feel like the first time – it feels like a long time coming. He tastes like home, warm and gentle and so very _Jason_ , so much the boy she's known forever, and yet, at the same time, like a man she's just meeting. Different from the way she'd always known him, but familiar enough to recognize him.

She pushes herself up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck, holding on for balance. He slides both his arms around her waist and bends them over the bed until he can climb on top of her with ease. The blankets are soft beneath her back, but not as soft as his fingers as he dances them over her body, not as soft as his mouth as he runs his tongue over her lips, then inside her kiss, then down her throat.

Her eyes open when his lips go low on her body, delight and heat mingling inside her, and she catches sight of his back in the mirror on the other side of the room. The bruise is still there, but it looks more faded from this angle, like a faraway memory, a different time.

He looks up at her with a smile in his eyes, and she thinks she can catalogue this scar as one of hers.

-:-

The martial arts tournament comes and goes without him managing to break any bones or get a new scar, which she counts as a victory. She screams herself hoarse in the crowd and runs into his arms, barely even noticing Tommy and Kat at her side. She thinks she feels his gaze on the two of them, but she can't bring herself to look up.

Outside his hotel room after the victory party, she bumps into Kat on her way to see him. "Hi," she says, a bit uncertainly, but Kat smiles and it feels like everything is okay, like she doesn't need to be worried.

"Hey, Kim," she says, her smile warm and uplifting. "How are you?"

"Good," she replies, unsure of what other adjective would fit. "I'm doing good. How are you?"

"Good," Kat echoes, and there's a beat of awkward silence before they catch each other's eyes and start giggling. "Oh, this is silly. I feel like I've forgotten how to talk to you, it's been so long."

"I know the feeling," she agrees with a smile. "Don't worry about it. It's been great to see you guys again."

"You, too," Kat says, then her face becomes serious. "I wasn't sure – if you wanted to talk – I don't know – about me and Tommy? If – I didn't want it to be weird."

"It's not," she hastens to assure her, pressing a hand to her arm in comfort. "It really isn't, I promise. I'm happy for you guys." The idea of her being _not_ happy for them is so distant from her actual emotions that it seems laughable. "As long as you're happy, Kat."

Kat smiles, letting out a breath like she didn't know she'd been holding it. "I am. I really am. I just didn't know if anyone – if Jason had told you? I hope it wasn't a shock."

She laughs, unable to help herself. "Not at all. Do you know how many times he mentioned you in his letters to me? We were both moving on, I just took the first step. Don't worry about me and Tommy, okay?"

Kat nods slowly, glancing over her shoulder at Jason's room behind her. "Right. And… you and Jason?"

She tenses. It's still so new, and it's not like they've told anyone – at least she hasn't, and she's pretty sure he has no plans of parading it around in front of Tommy, either. "What about me and Jason?" she asks carefully, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Kat's smile is amused, which makes her cheeks color. "I was just with him," she says. "You two – something's changed, hasn't it? He feels – different. Sort of like how he was around Emily, except… except it's you, right? It's different."

She swallows. "I – I don't know – " There doesn't seem to be any point in denying it; Kat's always been too perceptive for her own good. "It's… it's new."

Kat laughs and touches her arm as she brushes past her. "I could tell. I hope it works out for you guys," she says. "And if you need to talk – I know we're not Trini or Aisha, but Tanya and I have had our fair share of boy drama, too."

A smile comes to her lips unbidden. "Thank you," she says honestly. "I appreciate that. See you later, Kat."

Kat waves goodbye and heads off down the hallway, and she watches her go, marveling at the way the universe works sometimes, before knocking on Jason's door.

He opens it with a smile. "Took you long enough," he says as he holds the door open for her to enter. "What was Kat saying?"

She shrugs, kicking off her shoes and settling down on the bed. "Not much. She knows about us, by the way."

He sighs, though he doesn't seem displeased, more fond than anything. "Of course she does. Pretty sure Tanya does, too, and if they know, Adam will know, and if he knows – "

"Rocky will know," she finishes, giggling as he joins her on the bed. "Do you think Tommy – "

"Nah," he says quickly, gathering her up in his arms. "You might have to put it in a letter," he teases, before leaning over to kiss her, and she loses her retort somewhere in his lips.

Later, as they're lying tangled in the sheets, her curled up against his chest, he brushes his hand through her hair gently, and says, "So, I got a new scar."

She opens her eyes to roll them at him. "What did you do this time?"

He chuckles, the sound warm and vibrating through his chest. "It's really stupid. I knocked myself against a branch while I was doing last-minute training out in the park. It scratched me all the way from here – " He takes her hand and slides it down his leg to demonstrate. "— to here."

She runs her fingers over the scar, stretching from his knee to his thigh. She can't see it underneath the sheets, but she can feel its shape and size – it's fairly thin, not very deep, but she can tell it's probably still bright pink. Sighing, she draws the hand up his body, over his chest, and settles it on his heart.

"You're an idiot," she murmurs, but she's smiling when he leans down to kiss her. "I love you."

He hesitates for a moment – she thinks maybe it's too soon, maybe he doesn't quite feel the same way, maybe, maybe maybe – but they've known each other forever, and she feels him smiling back against her lips before he whispers, "I love you, too," and his heart pounds beneath her palm, _one two three, one two three_.

He's alive, and so is she, and she's with him. She's always been with him.

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